Dream Weaver
by babyhilts
Summary: The year is 2008 and Lauren Mathers biggest worries are on her college finals. That is, until she wrecks her car and wakes up in a Tulsa hospital. A time travel fic set pre-book. Curtis parents still alive. Darry centered.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** _Just a quick thank you to soda-me for agreeing to beta my story and another thank you to Forget Tomorrow. Live Today. who sent me the longest review in history and helped point out some obvious grammar errors that I had overlooked. And another quick thanks to Shotgun Opera who was the first to read this and made sure to let me know Darry never wore hair grease :P So thank you all for your help. Greatly appreciated. :D_ The chapter below is a revised version.

**Disclaimer: **_I don't own the Outsiders that belongs to S.E. Hinton. The quote is from the song "Dream Weaver" by Gary Wright as is the title of this fic._

**Summary: **A car accident in 2008 sends college student Lauren Mathers back in time to Tulsa, Oklahoma 1965. The story is set in December of that year and I'm following marsonfire's Outsiders time line therefore, the Curtist parents are still alive.

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~Driver take away my worries of today and leave tomorrow behind~

**December 4, 2008**

When I stepped out into the cold, night air I had only two things on my mind: finals and snow tires. December was just starting and that meant crunch time. I had an apartment stocked with cases of Red Bull. It would be the only thing that would get me through my College finals. That and dozens of late nights like this, spent at the public library.

Freezing rain poured down from the heavens, icing the parking lot and making it near impossible to reach my red Jetta. I stepped over the slick black top in almost a dance. It was a wide legged, goofy dance that would have gotten me made fun of if I were still in middle school.

The small, tin can of car sat, silent. It was more rust than automobile. Waiting for me, it gladly collected the cold rain. I looked to the wheels and cringed because they were bald. That or close to it. I'll be honest and say I'm not quite sure how to tell when tires are completely bald. I would imagine there'd be nothing left. The Jetta's wheels were getting there. They were worn down far enough.

I tossed my book bag into the back seat. The car rocked when I slammed the door. I thought it might even tip over, but it held on.

_Good girl._

I hoped it would stay together until I made it home. The freezing rain would make for horrible road conditions. Nothing too unexpected when you lived in Northern Ontario but still something I hated to deal with.

I clambered into the driver's side and started the engine. The old Volkswagen made it onto the road with little hassle.

Hands tight around the wheel, I drove at a turtles pace. The car still slipped and skidded across the asphalt. I prayed I'd make it in one piece.

I'd been wishing I'd bought some winter tires. It was common sense. Most everyone I knew had winter tires but then again, most everyone I knew was not poor. They didn't live off Kraft Diner. They still mooched off their parents. How nice that would have been.

_Why did I ever decide that independence rocked?_

_Independence sucks._

_You don't live at home and sure that was great but then you were stuck eating food from a can every night of the week. _

_Some trade off that was._

One of the Jetta's wheels hit a dip in the road. The car lurched forward, throwing me against the steering wheel. The horn blasted in my ear, deafening me for a moment. It was probably the only thing left working anymore.

The tires squelched across the deserted road. My wiper blades weren't doing much of a job to keep the windshield clear. It was just another thing I didn't have money to fix. I drove; eyes squinted with my body hunched over the wheel.

We hit another bump. The car rattled and for a moment I stopped breathing. I didn't relax until the metal heap settled back onto the road.

I tried to think about something else beside the driving conditions. Like how I was going to make rent. With finals looming I'd done nothing but study. I'd been forced to take some time off work. It was just a petty waitressing job but it was money. Then again, they were my exams. I had to pass them. I also needed cash to keep myself afloat.

"What am I going to do?" I muttered to myself.

I didn't dare ask my parents. I knew they couldn't afford to lend me a dime, though they would if they knew my situation. I just couldn't bring myself to bother them with that. I was an adult now. I'd make my own way. I'd have to.

A set of headlights broke through the curtain of rain. The driver had their high beams on. They were blinding. I shrunk back in my seat though it did nothing to help.

My eyes narrowed to slits, barely open at all because of the brightness. The wipers were stuck; frozen to the windscreen of my car. I tried to look around them; around the onslaught of freezing rain.

Up ahead the car began to take shape. It was a black BMW and it was coming down the hill much faster than it should have been.

_Who does this bozo think he is, Mario Andretti?_

Reflexively my hands gripped the wheel tighter. I even slowed the car a bit more. All I wanted was to get home safely.

But as the car came rushing towards the Jetta, I noticed something that I hadn't before. It was swerving. Veering in and out of the lane; completely disregarding the white dashes that divided the road.

I'd been so caught up with actually trying to see the road that I hadn't paid attention to the car. Now it was too late. The drunk driver weaved across the asphalt and into my lane.

A short lived scream filled the Volkswagen. I jerked the wheel to the right, trying to get the shaky vehicle off the road. I was aiming for the gravel shoulder. Somewhere out of the way of the oncoming vehicle.

The car turned too slow. The reckless BMW came at the Jetta. It caught the left rear side of my precious tin can. The crunch of metal rang out. The car began to fishtail as I tried desperately to right it. There was absolutely no traction from the tires.

The car spun off the road, screeching as it tried to hold onto the tarmac. We hit the shoulder but didn't stop. I held on for dear life. Feet pushed against the floor in hopes of breaking for the inevitable.

The ice covered ground sent the car skittering through the gravel. There was a drop on the other side that we spun towards. It was impossible to see how far down it was but I imagined it to be something like thirty feet.

The Jetta went over it; somersaulting in the frozen rocks. Metal crunched as the poor, fragile vehicle broke. I was flung forward into the wheel with enough force to illicit a cry. Tears ran down my cheeks.

_I'm going to die._

Glass shattered as the windshield crumpled under the second roll. Pieces of it filled the small interior. Something wet trickled down the left side of my face. My vision blurred as it got into my eyes.

The car lurched mid roll as if it might stop. It was so abrupt I was sent forward once more. My forehead connected with the dash.

A moment later the car started to move; completing its third and final tumble. As the Jetta took its last descent my vision began to cut out. Like a bad T.V. reception, it came and went.

I felt the car settle on even ground, but we were upside down. There was pain everywhere. It was all consuming. My ears rang. My chest ached from being thrown into the wheel too many times.

I struggled to open my eyes but they refused to budge and to be honest, I was too tired to force them. After a moment, I gave in to it. The pain, the worry; I let it take me until I finally succumbed to the dark.

000000

**December 4, 1965**

The walls of my mouth tasted of copper, like I'd been sucking on pennies. Those were my first thoughts as consciousness trickled in. The next thing I noticed was the pain. It was hard not to. My body felt stiff. Muscles sore. Every limb throbbed and my head pulsated in time to the beat of my heart.

I couldn't understand at first why I was hurting so much. The last thing I could remember was being at the library cramming for finals. There weren't many injuries one could acquire cracking open a textbook.

"Is she going to be okay, doc?"

A husky voice filled the room. It sounded close by.

Though it was a struggle, I forced my eyes to open. Fluorescent light flooded my vision. Everything shifted out of focus for a second. I blinked away offending tears. The brightness of it all stung. It was so white.

Things slowly started to clear. As my sight returned to normal, I realized with a sudden apprehension where I was.

_Hospital._

I was seated on an examination table. The room was small and reeked of antibacterial soap. Stark, white walls stared back at me. Stainless steel counter tops lined one side of the room. Glass jars filled with swabs and Popsicle sticks and all types of other dangerous instruments doctors used to torture their patients with.

I hated hospitals. Everything about them terrified me. There was all that blood and the screaming children in the waiting rooms that never seemed to sit still. They had all those dead bodies everywhere. They had dead people sitting on ice, somewhere in this building at that very moment. No one thought about it but it was true. You were essentially in the same place as a bunch of stiffs. And hospitals always had _someone_ dying. It was just a big, depressing building filled with blood and death.

I couldn't sit in place any longer. Anxiety had taken its hold and I climbed off the table too fast. My legs were unprepared to hold up the rest of my weight and they caved in, sending me crumpling to the ground.

The door to the room opened at that moment. A man, dressed in a white lab coat stood in the entrance. A younger man stood behind him, hovering.

"Don't mind me," I said, picking myself off the polished linoleum. "I'm new at this whole walking thing. Never really saw much use for it."

No one responded.

_Whew, tough crowd._

I could feel my cheeks heating with embarrassment. The doctor reached for something in his coat pocket. I backed up, legs slamming into the table. The metal frame rattled.

"What are you doing?"

A sadistic smile appeared on the man's face. "It's only a penlight dear."

He removed the small, flashlight and held it up for me to see. Immediately I began to relax.

"We're just going to have a look at your pupils. That's quite a nasty bump you've got there."

At the mention of it, the pain felt worse. I touched a hand to my forehead. Thick medical gauze had been placed there. Underneath the fabric my skin itched. I wanted to scratch it better but the doctor shot me a warning look.

"You'll pull out the stitches if you start playing with that," he said.

"Stitches?"

The doctor lifted a single finger and asked me to follow it with my eyes. I did as I was told.

"Good, good. Your pupils seem fine."

He turned to his little clipboard and started jotting down something on the page.

"Wait, what did I need the stitches for? What happened to me?"

The panic was returning. A cold sweat broke out on my back. I fidgeted with a loose string on my pants, tying it into small, nervous knots.

"What is the last thing you remember?"

"Um, I was at the library studying." I began searching back as far as I could.

"Do you remember getting into your car?"

My breath hitched. "The Jetta? What happened to her?"

"You were in an accident only forty minutes ago. This young man here brought you in."

The boy who'd done nothing but hover for the past several minutes stepped into the room. He was a giant of a man. Broad shouldered, with these wide, tree trunk arms. His dark hair kicked out at the front. The style of it was ridiculous. No guy I knew wore their hair that way. Then there was that stupid, black t-shirt. It was plain and much too small for his frame; it practically clung to him. I kept waiting for the fabric to rip apart. I imagined pieces of black cloth exploding off his chest every time he took a deep breath.

He did, however, have nice eyes. They were blue-green; different. He had a handsome face and those muscles; they were so defined, so big. I wasn't sure about other women but they certainly made me melt.

When my mind climbed back out of the gutter, I realized I'd forgotten what we'd been talking about.

"You brought me in?" I asked.

The details were coming back to me. I could remember getting into the Jetta. Then there were those headlights. They'd been so damn bright; I couldn't see a thing besides them. It had been raining. No snowing. No freezing rain. I didn't have snow tires on my beat up Volkswagen either and then that idiot had been speeding towards me, swerving in and out of lanes until I was run right off the road.

I cut Mr. Muscles off before he could answer my original question.

"Was that you in the BMW?"

My voice shook with rage. I dug my hands into my pockets to keep them still. My whole body trembled with uncontrolled anger. At some point the doctor was called out of the room, leaving me to deal with the fashionably inept muscle man.

"You didn't bring me in to be a Good Samaritan," I accused. "You did it because you're the one that hit me."

A deep, gravelly laugh erupted from his chest. It was like a slap to the face. I took a step forward, doing my best to seem tougher than I truly was. I thought I could scare him into admitting it but when I'd closed the space between us I found that my head reached the middle of his chest. I had to look up at him in order to continue my glare, though I doubt it had any effect whatsoever.

"I brought you in because you were hurt," was his husky reply. "And because you were the one that hit me. My folks can't afford to pay for the damage and by the looks of your car, I'm sure you have insurance."

It was my turn to laugh. "That old jalopy is held together with duct tape. What makes you think I have the money pay for something that was _your _fault in the first place_?_"

The muscles in his arms suddenly expanded as he began clenching and unclenching his hands. They formed two powerful fists at his side. They were menacing things. For a moment I thought he was going to deck me. All it would take is one, solid punch to send me into a coma.

I watched his body tense beneath that tight shirt his and I took a protective step backwards. He raised an eyebrow.

"I ain't goin' to hit ya."

"Says the seven foot slab of muscles," I snapped back.

He sighed, dragging one of his big hands across his face. It made him look older than he really was.

"Can I please get your information so I can go on home?"

I folded my arms across my chest defiantly. "No."

"No?"

"That's right. No. I'm not giving you anything until you admit that _you_ **hit** _me._"

"You're really somethin' you know that? Just because you ain't a good driver don't mean you can get out of paying for the damage to my truck."

"Your truck?" I hesitated. "Weren't you driving a black BMW?"

"It was a '55, Ford pickup that you totaled."

That couldn't be right. Muscles had to have been wrong. The car I'd seen had definitely not been a truck. I wasn't good with cars, so maybe I got the BMW thing wrong but I certainly knew the difference between a pickup and what I saw on the road earlier that night.

My brain wasn't working as fast as I'd have liked. I tried to understand how I could hit him. There'd been no one else on that stretch of road. I'd gone straight off the highway. The Jetta had rolled several times down a large embankment. It was impossible for me to hit him. For that matter, it was impossible that I was still walking.

_What the hell is going on here?_

"Lauren!"

A familiar voice screamed my name from down the hall.

"Lauren, dear, where are you?"

I took a step toward the doorway. An older woman, with a full head of blonde hair, tightly packed with hairspray stood at the opposite end. She kept sticking her head into the rooms that had their doors still open, calling my name every few seconds.

"I'm right here," I said after a moment. She looked up, eyes wide.

"George, she's over here!"

The woman came hurtling down the hallway. High heels click clacking across the floor as she ran. Before I could understand what was going on, she had me wrapped in her thin arms and was pulling me against her chest.

"Lauren, we'd thought something awful had happened to you." She was sobbing.

That's when it hit me. I knew why I recognized her voice.

"Mom?" I pulled back to get a better look.

It was her, but at the same time it wasn't. She shared the same build, the same face and eyes, but it wasn't quite her. This version was too clean, even her hair looked more blonde than my mothers. Not to mention it was pinned up in a beehive.

"What happened to your hair?"

I looked her over some more and realized it wasn't just the hair. It was the clothes too. They were incredibly outdated.

"And what are you wearing?"

She had this pink, Jackie Kennedy era dress on. I could feel the tacky fabric burning away my retinas when I looked too close.

My mother narrowed her eyes disapprovingly. "Your father bought this for me."

"Figures," I laughed, though I guess it wasn't that funny.

Her face remained devoid of emotion and she kept staring at me with this scolding look. I felt that somehow I wasn't quite the adult I used to be.

"You mind your manners, young lady," she hushed.

_Mind my manners?_

"Sorry?"

"That's better." She seemed to relax a bit.

_What was happening here?_

"Where's the idiot that hit my baby girl?"

The dad from "_Leave it to Beaver_" was rampaging up and down the hall. Red faced and nostrils flaring, he kept muttering obscenities under his breath. I was embarrassed for him, even if he wasn't.

My mom sighed and moved to catch his attention. When he looked over at us, he caught my gaze. I shrunk back, a little put off by him. I stumbled backward and accidentally bumped the giant, still lingering in the doctor's office.

"Sorry," I said, shifting away again.

Ward Cleaver started toward me with this glazed look in his eyes. He did not look like the happy, patriarch I knew and loved from T.V. He was a madman and he wasn't Beaver's father, he was mine.

"George Mathers, you calm that temper of yours right now," my mother was right on his heels. "People are starting to take notice."

"Let them look, Barbara."

He started rolling up the sleeves to his dress shirt. He had his eyes pinned on the poor, greasy haired kid next to me. The guy didn't even move, he just folded his arms across his chest, trying to make himself seem bigger.

_What is wrong with these people?_

"I'll teach you to drive recklessly," my father was shouting. "Good for nothing delinquent."

I'd never heard my dad so angry. 'Course this wasn't my dad. This was some, altered reality version of him and my mother.

"He's going to kill you," I whispered nervously. Muscles just lifted his head higher. God, he was a stubborn idiot.

"Daddy, wait."

I didn't think he'd listen to me, so I grabbed onto his left arm, holding my father in place.

"I was the irresponsible one."

I swear you could hear a pin drop. Everyone turned in my direction. My father seemed disbelieving.

"You wrecked the Mustang?"

_Wait, whose Mustang?_

I glanced over at Muscles. "Yeah…it was me. I did it. I wasn't really watching the road and…this cat…yeah, this damn cat…"

"Lauren, language," my mother interrupted.

"The cat just came out of nowhere and I swerved to avoid it and…that's how it happened."

Dad was unimpressed. "You mean to tell me, you got into an accident over a cat?"

"Sorry…"

"Do you know how much that Mustang cost me?"

_I could imagine. Since when could we afford a Mustang anyway?_

"George, lower your voice."

"Barbara, that was a new model. A '64!"

"Hold up," I said. "I wrecked a '64 Mustang?"

My father cut me off with a glare. "That's enough from you, Lauren."

I was shocked into silence. Of course I wanted to lash out. Wanted to scream at the top of my lungs and tell him he couldn't speak to me like that. I was an adult. I was twenty years old. I lived on my own. Paid my own rent and went to College. I wasn't thirteen anymore.

But despite all those facts, I went quiet. Something about the whole situation scared me enough that I shut up entirely.

If they'd been my real parents then I'd have fought back. My parents were pushovers; loving people who welcomed everyone in with open arms. My mom was a free spirited lady, who liked to kick back on weekends over a game of cards and cold beer. And my dad liked to embarrass me by telling dirty or inappropriate jokes to my girlfriends when they'd stop by the house. They were predictable. These two were loose cannons, or at least the dad was. There was no telling what he'd do.

"Sir, if I may. Lauren and I were just exchanging information."

Muscles shot me a cocky smile.

"I was saying that if you'd allow it, I know someone who wouldn't mind doing the body work on your Mustang. It would be a reasonable price, I can assure you."

I stared, open mouthed at him.

_Who was this guy?_

"I'll think it over, Mister?"

"Curtis, sir. Darrel Curtis."


	2. Chapter 2

**Note:** Big thank you to Hahukum Konn for being my beta for this chapter. Any errors you find are my own after editing :P

**Disclaimer:** As always, the Outsiders belong to Susie Hinton and the quote at the beginning is 'borrowed' from the opening narration of the Twilight Zone, so I don't own that either.

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~That's the signpost up ahead - your next stop, the Twilight Zone~

**December 5th, 1965**

I've never fainted before. You see people do it all the time in movies but in real life it doesn't come so easy. I felt like I was going to pass out right then. Part of me wanted to because I thought it might help somehow, but I knew the truth. No form of dramatics was going to change things. My problems would still be there, waiting for me when I woke up.

A blue Mustang was parked in our driveway, with the engine running; I could see a boy no more than seventeen sitting behind the wheel. The rest of him I couldn't make out, nor did I care to. I watched from the foyer window, fisting my hand in the teal curtains, praying he'd drive off.

All morning I'd fooled myself into thinking this was just some sort of dream. Eventually I'd have to wake up but until then I'd just wait it out. There was little else I could do. I'd spent the better part of the morning in denial. Getting dressed in outdated clothes and sitting down to a hefty breakfast, thinking that any moment it would be gone and I'd be back in the real world. Normally dreams only last so long and the one I was in was way past its expiration date. By the time seven o'clock rolled around, I knew things weren't as straightforward as I'd have liked.

_If this wasn't a dream, then how had this happened? What had become of my old life? Was I nonexistent there? What about my parents? Were these really them? Was I still me, or was I someone else?_

I had dozens of questions and no answers. What I did know was this. I was in Tulsa, Oklahoma and it was 1965. In addition to that, I was still only eighteen years old. I still went to high school and that boy in the Mustang was there to pick me up.

This wasn't a dream at all, it was a nightmare.

"Lauren, dear, are you finished yet? That Adderson boy has been waiting on you for five minutes now."

Mom was busying herself in the kitchen. She'd been in there since the break of dawn and had yet to leave.

I let the curtains fall back into place, obscuring my view of the muscle car. That boy could stay in his Mustang all day long, I wasn't going anywhere with him.

"Mom, you have to listen to me."

She sat at the kitchen table, scraps of paper spread across its surface. They were clippings from some old catalogue that she couldn't help but cut up with her scissors. She said she wanted to give me an idea of what sort of dress I could wear for the winter formal at the local high school.

_Yeah, like that was really going to be the highlight of my life._

"Lauren, your father wouldn't be having any of this."

That was true. What I'd learned of my father was that he was a man to be reckoned with. He was a serious, no excuses type of fellow. I barely recognized the dad I knew and loved. This man intimidated me. I doubt I'd still have pled my case if he hadn't already left for work.

"You don't understand," I kept persisting. "I'm not eighteen, I'm an adult. I've already passed high school. This is some kind of mistake. I'm not the Lauren you think I am."

Mom looked up, eyes narrowed and lips pursed. "You stop these antics right now, young lady. You are going to school and that is the end of it."

"But you don't understand. I'm not from here, I'm from the future!"

I sounded like a nut.

Mom threw the papers she was holding back into the pile. Her hands were shaking. It was as though a switch had been flipped. She pushed out of her chair and moved across the kitchen to a decorative jar sitting on the counter. She removed the top and pulled out a cigarette and lighter.

"You see what this does to me?" she was fumbling with her cigarette and lighter. "You see what this behavior does to me? I'm your mother; you are to treat me with respect."

She finally got it lit. Eyes closed, she took a long drag, savoring the feeling. When she opened her eyes again, they leveled on me with a glare.

"Go get your books together, Lauren."

_This is ridiculous!_

"I'm telling you the truth. I'll prove it," I said.

_Great, how are you going to do that? All that you know of the sixties you learnt from watching "Grease". _

_Think Lauren._

"Kennedy!" I shouted, a triumphant smile tearing across my face. "He's going to be assassinated."

Mom took another drag. She looked upset. Had I just ruined the future by telling her this?

"Lauren, what has gotten into you?" she sounded disappointed and at the same time, concerned.

"It's the truth."

She sighed. "I know it is, dear."

_Wait, what? How did she..._

"It happened nearly two years ago," she continued. "Everyone knows that."

_Everyone but me._

What was I supposed to do now? How was I supposed to make her understand what was going on?

The shrill sound of the doorbell chiming shattered my thoughts. I jumped, startled by the noise. Mom grabbed hold of it as if it were a life preserver. She hurried to the sink, butting out the remainder of her cigarette.

"Lauren, your books," she gestured to the foyer, nicotine-stained fingers primping her hair as she left the room.

My heart threaded with panic. I felt trapped, caged in like a wild animal. My eyes darted about the kitchen, seeking an escape. There was none to be found. The kitchen window was too small; the only way I'd be going out it would be in pieces.

"Oh, she'll be out in just a minute, Randy. We've had quite the morning, what with the accident and all."

"I don't mind waiting, Mrs. Mathers," replied the Adderson boy.

_I'm not going to school._

_I'm not going to school._

_I'm not going…_

"Lauren?"

Something in the pit of my stomach moved, churning my undigested breakfast into a queasy lump. I wanted to vomit all over the finely polished floors. Mess with the perfection of this awful world I was in.

I took a deep breath and stepped across the threshold back into the foyer. Mom was standing next to a tall, dark haired boy. He had his hair cut like one of the Beatles, except it had too much of a curl to make it look proper. He was smiling like an idiot. His teeth were so white and straight I was convinced they were porcelain veneers.

Randy turned, flashing his perfect teeth at me. "Good morning, Lauren. Are we all ready?"

"Umm…"

_Tell him no, you idiot! You're not eighteen, you're twenty-one! You're not putting up with this shit._

"Lauren, dear, you don't want to make Randy late for school."

Mom held out a stack of thick textbooks.

"Yeah, I just need my books."

Mom transferred the pile of books into my arms. Half a second passed before Randy stepped in, charming my mother with his all American grin. He reminded me of those boys from the GAP commercials. It was all too Norman Rockwell for my taste.

"Let me carry those for you. They must weigh near a ton."

A pleased look overcame my mother. Her face glowed as she gave Randy a gentle pat on the shoulder.

"Such a nice boy," she said. "You could do well to follow his example Lauren."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, I'll take that under consideration."

Mom wrinkled her nose at me. Randy held my books, looking embarrassed. He came around my side, intertwining his free arm with mine. I went still, eyes narrowing on the arm around my own. He had some nerve. I hardly knew him and he thought he could just step into my personal space?

"Well, we don't want to be late," Randy was saying. "I'll be sure to drop her off after school, ma'am."

He was backing out of the house, his arm still locked into place with mine. Mom waved from the door. I wanted to scream at the both of them but instead kept quiet. I wasn't sure what good it would do me.

When the beehive of blond hair disappeared from the foyer window I finally snapped. We were only a few feet from the Mustang but I'd had it with this Adderson kid. I wrenched my arm out of his, my elbow accidentally slamming into his side. He cried out in surprise, textbooks falling to the pavement.

"What was that for?"

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to hurt you."

"You got a nice way of showin' it," he accused.

"Look buddy, you were the one gettin' all grabby. I don't need an escort to your car."

He busted into a fit of laughter. Forgetting his side for a moment, he looked at me like I'd grown another head.

"Are you kiddin' me, Lauren? You know it ain't like that."

I didn't believe him. "What's it like then?"

"Marcia and me, we're goin' steady. You know that. 'Sides, Jed wouldn't like it much if he knew I was trying to get his girl while he was away at school."

"I'm no one's girl," I snapped. "Let alone this Jed fella's."

Randy, caught off guard, stumbled and nearly tripped over the pile of books lying scattered on the sidewalk. I watched him bend down to pick them up.

"I can pick up my own books."

Randy gave me room as I took the few from his hands and added them to the ones I'd already begun to collect. He was eyeing me the same way my mom had.

We got into his car and pulled onto the road without a word. That was fine by me; I had nothing to say to the gangly teen, anyway. I kept my attention focused out the passenger window, watching as the scenery slowly changed. We drove out of the small suburban hell I now knew as home and made our way towards a main stretch of road, decorated on either side with small shops.

"Marcia spent the night at Cherry's, so she'll be gettin' a ride with her today."

"Well, isn't that just so gosh, darn nice of Cherry. Say, how 'bout the four of us go over to Pop Tate's after school and share a chocolate shake? Say, we may even run into Archie and the gang, wouldn't that be just swell?"

Randy glanced from the road to me and back again.

"What's gotten into you today?"

I folded my arms across my chest, letting out a dramatic sigh. I knew I was acting like a child but that's what I was now, right?

"I'm not acting like anything," I said.

"Well you sure aren't acting like Lauren."

Randy ignored me for the remainder of the drive. I didn't blame him. I was being a rude, obnoxious baby and would keep it up until I was back in my old life. I was finished with the sixties. They could keep their poodle skirts and Beatle haircuts.

Will Rogers High loomed beneath a light dusting of snow. It stirred my anxiety, bringing it to the surface once again. I reached for the door handle before the car had stopped. We were still pulling into the parking space when I started to open it.

"Lauren, wait 'til I've stopped the car," Randy called to me.

I wasn't listening. With the door all the way open, I went to make a run for it. Something restrained my waist, pulling me back into the vehicle. I'd forgotten to take my seatbelt off.

The engine died. Randy was pocketing his keys, watching as I fumbled with the seat buckle. Gently, he pushed my hands aside. It was then I noticed they were shaking.

"What's wrong with you today?" he asked. "I've never seen you act this way before, since when are you in such a hurry to get to class?"

"I'm not. I'm in a hurry to get out of this place."

He'd finished with the seatbelt. I tried for a second escape only to find his hand around my arm, holding me in place.

"You aren't thinking of ditching classes again, are you?"

"Let go of my arm," I said through clenched teeth.

"Lauren, you know how your old man is when you ditch. It wouldn't be smart, not with you wrecking the Mustang and all. 'Sides, how do you expect to be with Jed next year if you keep missing class? You don't really want to be held back again, do you?"

_I failed? Well, isn't that just great._

"How 'bout you keep your after school specials to yourself."

I pulled my arm once and instantly he let go. He looked disappointed.

"I ain't coverin' for you this time," he said as I climbed out of the car. He followed my lead, looking at me from across the Mustang's roof.

"That's fine," I replied, "because I won't be coming back. I'm done with this town."

"What's that mean?"

"Figure it out."

000

The cold was seeping into my bones. Every part of me ached from it. Biting winds cut through my wool jacket, the blue fabric did little to keep it at bay. Though I was accustomed to the harsh, Canadian winters, I was still a baby when it came to even the slightest cold draft.

I'd been wandering around the streets of Tulsa for the past forty-five minutes. Born without a sense of direction, I'd ended up lost after the first ten. Admittedly,I had no idea where I was heading to in the first place, I continued to walk, distancing myself as far away from the high school as I could manage.

Part of me kept thinking that if I walked long enough, then maybe I'd come across a clue that would lead me home. Maybe I'd stumble upon a magic DeLorean to get me out of this mess. It was all wishful thinking and of course, none of it ever happened.

I made my way to a part of town I was unfamiliar with. It was bustling with all sorts of people. Stores lined on either side of the streets, while cars rushed back and forth. I merged into one crowd of busy shoppers, following them down the sidewalk.

I couldn't help peering into the store windows as I went past. Though I hated to admit it, there was something beautiful about this place. People always talked about how simple things were back in the day. I never understood how someone could live without all the technological advances we had; everything was so convenient in the future. But there was something to be learned from this time as well. The lack of cell phones made things a lot quieter and there weren't dozens of people around me plugged into iPods. It was all quite different, I sort of liked it.

_Snap out of it, Lauren, you have to get home!_

I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. I turned away from the department store, with its picturesque window display. The traffic light flipped to green before I'd stepped off the curb. All I was thinking about was the other side of the street. The other store windows I'd look in.

Tires squealed. A car horn cut across frigid air. A dented truck fender came at me. I screamed in surprise, trying to jump out of the way and only managing to slip in the brown slush that littered the streets. My arms shot out to cover my face as I cowered away from the oncoming vehicle. I waited for it to hit me, expecting to find myself splattered across downtown Tulsa in millions of pieces.

It never happened.

"Someone get that girl outta the road!"

People were shouting. Someone blasted their horn relentlessly.

Still shaken, I lowered my arms and lifted my head. The dented fender was inches from my face, bent steel mocking me. I sat there, overwhelmed with relief. Tears ran rampant down my cold cheeks. My butt felt wet as did my legs and for a moment I was worried I'd peed myself out of fear. It was then I noticed I was still sitting in the muddy snow.

A car door slammed. The fender bounced.

"Move your truck!" a man yelled. "You're blocking the road!"

"Y'all can just go around if you're in that much of a hurry!" another shouted back.

The crunch of ice underfoot sounded from behind. A heavy hand landed on my shoulder, startling me. I stirred to attention, slipping further into the slush. The hand tightened, the hold becoming rough and almost painful. Whoever this joker was, he obviously had no consideration for other people.

"Would ya stop movin' around, you're going to hurt yourself."

The voice sounded oddly familiar. A handsome, serious faced young man appeared in front of me. Eyes roaming across my body, while I sat there like a drowned idiot.

"Muscles?" I whispered.

Though he was without his black t-shirt, it was impossible not to recognize him with that stupid haircut. Our eyes met and while mine were still glassy with tears, his were looking more blue than green. They really were quite nice, sort of girlish pretty, though I doubt that would have been a compliment for him.

"You're the girl with the Mustang."

"And you're the one it hit," I said.

A smile tugged at his lips. It looked awkward on his otherwise, stoic face. His hand slipped off my shoulder, having lingered there for far too long. I followed it with my eyes, watching the hand ball into a fist. He was crouched down to my level, hovering over me, still looking concerned. I'd been getting a lot of that today.

"I didn't hit ya, did I?"

I shook my head. "No, I'm fine. You missed me by a few inches."

I flashed him a trembling smile. He didn't seem too impressed by it. If anything, it turned him off more. He made me feel like a child.

"How come you just walked out like that? Don't you know to wait for the red light?"

My cheeks heated. I wiped at the tears starting to dry on my face. I was embarrassed to have him see the stains left behind.

"I wasn't paying attention, alright? I've had a lot of things on my mind."

"What, besides oncoming traffic?"

My temper flared. "Why are you still here? You didn't hit me and I'm not hurt, so your duties have been fulfilled. Go find yourself someone else to bother."

He narrowed his eyes, directing an annoyed look my way.

"Maybe if you spent less time thinkin' 'bout yourself and more time worryin' about the going ons around you, you wouldn't get into so much trouble."

Muscles straightened from his crouch, eyeing me from his high altitude. I glared at him, having to squint around the sunlight. He left me there, walking back to his truck. I struggled out of the slush and managed to get back onto the curb without any trouble.

The red pickup had yet to pull out. Muscles appeared to be taking his sweet time.

_Who does he think he is? _

"I don't care what you think of me!" I called to him.

No response.

"Why should I? I don't even know you," I continued.

Again, there was no response.

"You know that black t-shirt you wear? Well, it's too small for you. Yeah, that's right, it looks ridiculous. Do yourself a favor and burn it."

Once more, I was met with silence.

"Your hair looks stupid." I was beginning to flounder.

Muscles turned his head. I'd thought I'd won. I was ready for his retaliation. I expected him to lose that calm demeanor. It'd show him not to talk to me like that.

"Thanks," he replied, flashing me a cocky grin.

The pickup edged back onto the street, leaving me in its wake. I could picture him watching me from his rearview mirror, that dumb, cocky smile on his face the entire time.

_Asshole._


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** HUGE thank you goes out to Hahukum Konn for once again doing beta work on this chapter. I swear, if you didn't take the time you do to read over my chapters then they'd be a complete mess. I love you for nitpicking! Any errors found in this chapter are my own doing after editing. :P Enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** As always, The Outsiders belongs to Susie Hinton and the quote at the beginning is taken from the song "Laugh, I Nearly Died" by the Rolling Stones. *hint* I don't own that either.

* * *

~I've been wandering, feeling all alone  
I lost my direction and I lost my home ~

**December 7th 1965**

Apparently, gas stations in the sixties serve as brothels during the off hours; at least, that was my reasoning for the huddle of gooey eyed females. They'd flooded the DX parking lot in a mass of estrogen and hairspray. It looked as though they were there for one reason and one reason only, and that was for the handsome-faced blond. The girls crowded about him in the cold, tripping over one another to get a better look-see. It was a pathetic site to behold. I mean, hadn't those girls ever heard of playing hard to get?

Unfortunately for myself, I was stuck with what I assumed was the not-so-attractive DX employee known only to me as Steve. It wasn't as though he'd introduced himself or anything; he was a little too abrasive for my liking. I'd had to read it on his oil-stained work shirt.

I'd had a tow truck bring in the crippled Mustang. The moment it came through the DX Steve's eyes had bulged all fish-like in his head. He stood by the garage as they brought it in, hands swirling strands of his greasy curls. Not washing your hair seemed to be quite common for some of the boys in Tulsa. Really, why wash with shampoo when you could just dump a gallon of pomade on your hair?

I stood at the mouth of the garage, craning my neck to get a look inside. I'd been there since school had let out, that had been nearly three hours earlier. It was cold outside, the wind was harsh and I was getting cranky.

A loud, metal banging sound echoed through the garage. Steve cursed to himself, slamming some type of tool down on the cement floor. I watched, stomach rolling anxiously.

"Don't break my car," I warned him.

"I ain't breakin' it. You did that yourself," Steve hollered back from beneath the twisted heap of metal.

I bit my lip. Hands twisting in my yellow scarf, I peered into the dimly lit cave, wrinkling my nose at the smell.

"Don't think I'm tipping you, 'cause I'm not!" my voice shook, not quite as confident as I'd have liked.

Steve yelled back, "Good, I don't need your damn charity, now would ya shut up? I can't work when you're yammerin' in my ear like that."

I stormed off, moving from the garage and making my way across the empty lot. It was dark, the sun having set almost an hour earlier. I'd have been walking blind were it not for the neon DX sign that hung overhead. It created a faintly lit path for me that I followed all the way to the huddle of adolescent girls.

"Move, get out of my way…" I grunted and pushed against the wall of horny females. "Come on, are you serious? Just…ugh…get out…ugh…"

I barreled through them, elbows connecting with soft, fleshy parts and feet trampling over unprotected toes. I didn't mean to be so rough but they'd refused to clear a path and I was on a mission to save the Mustang from total destruction. I'd be damned if I was to stay in this era without ever getting a chance to drive it.

I stumbled out of the huddle and right into the lean, muscled back of the blond DX employee. My added weight sent us toppling forward.

"Glory…" he exclaimed.

He caught himself in time and even managed to save me from the embarrassment of face-planting the asphalt. Strong arms encircled my waist, dragging me back into an upright position.

I brushed nonexistent dirt from my coat and tried to reclaim whatever dignity I had left. The situation was only made worse by the way he was watching me. I hoped he didn't think clumsiness was a common thing for me. He was standing so close I assumed he was getting ready to catch me in case I decided to trip again.

"I'm sorry," I muttered, still dusting off my coat. "I lost my footing and…uh, tripped."

"S'alright, girls can't help fallin' for me."

He grinned, brown eyes dancing. With that one look I understood why half the women of Tulsa bothered to stand out in the cold for him. The boy had charm.

"Well, it sure ain't your modesty they're fallin' for, Sodapop," a familiar voice teased.

_It can't be…_

"Muscles?'

I shifted my gaze and there he stood my friendly neighborhood giant. His long hair had been tousled by the wind and his arm muscles bulged beneath his jacket. My eyes strayed to his bottom half, lingering too long on his tight jeans.

_God, I'm a sick person._

"You're light on your feet," he said.

His voice snapped me back to attention. I lifted my gaze, cheeks flushed, afraid he'd caught me staring.

"Why are you here? Are you stalking me or something?" I said, voice thick and words rushed.

He smirked. "It ain't always about you, you know."

My face went five more shades of red.

"I was stoppin' in to see my brother, he's gotta work tonight." He nodded at the blond. "What about you, you been followin' me around? Should I be gettin' the fuzz down here?"

"No…"

I tried, but for the life of me I couldn't remember why I was at the gas station. The boy made me flustered. The level-headed, grown woman I knew I was didn't exist when he was around. She got pushed to the back of my mind, leaving me to look like a bumbling idiot.

Steve cursed from clear across the parking lot. The sound was still loud enough to make me jump. That was all I needed to get back in the game.

I forced myself to look serious. In a determined voice I said, "That's the reason I'm here."

"You're here for Steve?" He sounded surprised. I saw him tense up, eyes looking in the direction of the garage.

"What, no," I said. "I brought my car here to get fixed, though I doubt it ever will with that lunatic working on it."

"Is that all? Well, you don't have to worry. Steve knows his way 'round cars better than anyone I know."

A sudden bang erupted from the garage. The clang of metal hitting cement echoed in the night air.

"Christ Almighty!"

I cringed and turned anxiously in the direction of my car. I was expecting an explosion, a rolling cloud of orange flames to come bursting from the mouth of the garage. I couldn't imagine anything good as a result of Steve working on the Mustang.

The two Curtis boys were just standing around when I turned back to face them, neither one bothering to speak up.

"Thanks for the help," I said sarcastically. "Now my car is kaput for good."

I was back to twisting my scarf around my hands. I left the two men where they were, not saying a word as I moved out of the parking lot and headed toward the road. I'd spent enough time loitering around the DX. It was all just proving to be a waste of my time; I would just have to hope and pray that Greasy Steve didn't kill my Mustang for good.

The wind blew strong and cold, tearing through my thin coat. It was a fancy piece of outerwear, with its gold-colored buttons and periwinkle blue fabric. It was easy on the eyes but did nothing to keep me warm.

My legs felt like rubber. Calves cramping and feet aching, I didn't stop walking until I reached the nearest bus stop. It wasn't very far from the gas station but I'd been standing around for what seemed like hours, watching that idiot try and fix my car. Every step I took made me regret having ever disobeyed my parents.

Truth was, there was a dinner party going on that very moment. Deep within the hells of Suburbia, people were sipping back cocktails and chatting about the stock market. A light, rose-colored dress had been laid out for me on my bed that morning. It wasn't my color, and the thought of having to put it on for the sole purpose of impressing a bunch of rich snobs from the sixties, made me sick to my stomach.

So, there I was, standing at a bus stop, in a shady part of Tulsa, freezing my ass off. I smiled in spite of my suffering as I imagined the looks on their faces when I didn't show for dinner. There'd be a punishment waiting for me once I made it home, but I was sure I could handle it. I was already grounded due to cutting classes on Wednesday and there were very few things they could do to increase my suffering in this world.

The road leading into town remained silent for a long while. It felt as though I'd spent forever waiting for the bus, when in fact I knew it had only been a few minutes. The cold didn't help make the waiting any more bearable.

I shifted my weight from one leg to the other, hoping to warm my frozen legs. I'd thrown on a tacky grey skirt and some goofy-looking checkered tights in addition to the woefully inadequate jacket I wore. There weren't very many pairs of pants in my closet and zero pairs of jeans. Where I was from you layered up when you left the house in winter and at that moment I'd have given my left arm for a pair of Long Johns.

A thin layer of snow covered the street and it crunched softly beneath a set of sneakers. The sound startled me from my thoughts. I turned, staring apprehensively at the large shadow making its way down the road. The size of him should have tipped me off right away.

"I hope you ain't plannin' on catchin' the bus from here," he said.

The husky drawl of his voice made me relax. It seemed strange that I would feel comforted by its familiarity.

"That was the plan."

Darry cupped his hands to his mouth, blowing warm air against the palms. The jacket he wore, though bulky as it was, didn't look all that warm. The material was worn thin in parts and it looked as though it had been mended several times in the past. I couldn't help thinking how cold he must have been, but he never complained. He just kept blowing hot hair against his hands, a smile on his face.

"You're gonna be waitin' for a while then. The buses are always late comin' by this part of town."

"Great, so I can either walk home or stay here and become the world's first human Popsicle."

That was just my luck. Disobey my parents by ditching some hoity-toity dinner party and what happens? The bus that was supposed to take me home was going to come and get me whenever it felt like it.

Clearing his throat, Darry said. "If it's going to be all that much trouble for you, I can just give ya a ride home."

I was sure I'd misheard him; he couldn't have just offered me a ride, not after all our arguments, after the time I'd supposedly hit him with my Mustang. I was sure he thought I was an idiot, an obnoxious rich kid and here he was, offering me a ride? It had to be a joke; he had to get some kind of sick pleasure out of this.

"What's the catch?" I said, eyeing him suspiciously.

His eyebrows knitted with confusion, "Why does there have to be a catch?"

"I don't know; there just always is." There I was, getting flustered again.

"Well, there ain't one. I just thought you'd like _not_ bein' a _human Popsicle,_ but if you don't want the ride…"

"Oh, I'll take the ride," I cut in. "I'm just want to make sure you don't try anything funny."

"Funny how?" he asked.

"I don't know," I shrugged. "Just don't try anything _weird_ because I took a Tae Bo class once and I am not afraid to use my moves on you. I've taken down guys twice your size before."

It wasn't a complete lie. I _had _taken a Tae Bo lesson once, but that was from the comfort of my own home, mimicking the moves from a battered VHS tape. I'd only watched it one time and then tossed it in the trash. As for taking down full grown men, well that was another lie all together.

I couldn't tell if he believed me or not but he did distance himself from me once we started heading toward his house. I think he did it more to reassure me than for his own protection. I was a midget compared to him. He could have slung me over his shoulder and I'd be powerless to stop him.

"The walk ain't too long," he was saying, shooting a glance my way.

I was dragging my feet, having given up on taking actual steps long ago.

"I'll just have to run in and get the keys for the truck, but then I can take ya home."

"It's all good," I mumbled back to him. "I appreciate this…you know, after all the crap I've put you through. You're a good guy, Muscles."

He smiled. "Darry's just fine, you know. You don't have to keep callin' me Muscles if you don't want to."

I smiled back. "Yeah, but I want to, Muscles."

Our walk ended several minutes later. We came to a stop outside a rusted metal fence that encircled a weather-beaten house. One side of the yard acted as a burial ground for half-assembled no-longer-working vehicles. The rest of the yard was covered in snow, though burnt, uncut grass poked out in parts, breaking through the white.

Darry faltered at the gate, his fingers wound through the loops in the chain-link fence, staring up at the house. After a moments hesitation he turned back to me, face unreadable.

"You might as well wait here; it'll only be a minute," he said.

"What, I'm not allowed to go in with you?"

He tensed.

"You hiding something in there?" I asked. "Dead bodies buried beneath the floorboards?"

"You got some imagination," he said, almost like it was a bad thing to have.

"Well, then why can't I come in?"

Without a word, he turned his back on me, fingers tightening around the loops of the fence before pushing open the gate. I followed after him, limping on sore feet, trying to keep pace with his long, hurried strides.

The screen door rattled when he opened it. He stepped across the threshold, keeping one arm outside to stop the door from closing in front of my face. I smiled at the gesture, bending under the outstretched arm as I entered the house.

Warm, cinnamon-laced air filled the small home. I stood in the entrance, relishing the smell.

"Darrel, is that you?"

A woman's voice carried from somewhere inside. Darry kicked off his shoes, letting them tumble in a messy heap on the floor. They were scuffed, dirty looking things, with chewed laces and the soles worn down.

"No, it's me, Ma," he called back.

For the first time in what felt like too long of a time, he turned to me.

"You gotta take your shoes off if you're plannin' on comin' in," he said.

"Oh, right. Sorry."

I slipped them off, setting them one beside the other. If it were my house I wouldn't have cared where I put them but I was a guest and that meant neatness and perfection.

The front entrance led into a sparsely decorated living room. It held only the basics: an old fashioned TV, a couch and chair. The carpet was well used and felt rough, almost itchy beneath my socked feet. Despite all of this, it still held a certain charm. The walls were covered in family photos, a newspaper was scattered on the arm of the chair, the room looked lived-in, but in a good way. In the midst of it all, a stunning, golden haired woman stood, a large, plastic bowl propped against her chest, welcoming me in with a gentle smile.

"Darry, sweetheart, you didn't tell me you were bringing a…friend, home for dinner."

Darry shifted all childlike beneath her gaze. "I'm just giving Lauren a ride home, Ma."

Her blue eyes fell upon me, warm and inviting like the rest of the house. She flitted towards me, crossing the room with the sort of grace not often associated with mothers.

"Well, it's nice to meet you dear. I can't say my son has ever mentioned you," she leveled Muscles a mothering look.

Darry shifted again. I laughed. "It's fine, really. We've only met a few days ago."

"Lauren's the girl who damaged the pickup," Darry added.

_Dude, way to kill my first impression._

However, the comment didn't seem to affect a thing. She pushed the bowl into one arm, letting it rest against her shoulder. It was filled with a thick, dark substance that looked an awful lot like unbaked cake.

"Now, then, I guess he has told me about you," she said and waved me toward her, one arm extended in waiting.

I hesitated and glanced over at Darry. His face had turned a slight shade of red, though you could hardly tell and if I didn't know any better, I'd have thought he was embarrassed. That sort of thing just didn't seem possible for the stoic giant. He avoided my eyes, shrinking away as if to disappear into the backdrop.

I stepped into the woman's awaiting arm, tensing when she draped it around me. The gesture felt foreign, too rushed when it was someone I hardly knew, yet she had a way about her that made it seem natural. After a moment I relaxed, breathing in the scent of what was definitely chocolate cake mix.

"You'll have to excuse the mess," she started saying as she led us through the house. "I've been cooking up a storm."

Several pots cooked on several different temperatures on the Curtis stove. One of them was bubbling with a thick brown sauce, which seemed to be the source of all the cinnamon I'd smelled earlier.

"Ma, she likes her cinnamon." Darry smiled, nodding his head at the pot. "Cooks it everyday on the stove, that's why the house smells so funny."

He winked playfully and his mom lifted a spatula in warning.

"If it weren't for my cinnamon you and your brothers would have this place smelling like unwashed socks."

Turning to me she continued, "So, dear, are you planning to stay for dinner? I've made enough spaghetti here to feed an army."

Darry sighed. "Ma, I told you already, I've got to take Lauren home."

"Well, can't that wait until after she's eaten? Besides, how do you plan on going anywhere without a running vehicle?" she said.

"That's what the pickup is for."

She shook her head, a smile creeping on her lips. "Your father's using it. Gone out to get a few things I forgot at the grocery store. You'll be able to take Lauren home as soon as he gets back, but by then you'll both be starved. Might as well just stay for dinner and then head out."

I should have refused the offer. I wasn't sure how Darry felt about me staying over for dinner; I didn't want to make things awkward. Then again, I was really taking a shine to his mom. She had this way about her; it reminded me of my own mother, the one I'd left back in the _real world_. So, instead of protesting like I knew I should, I remained silent, accepting the invitation with a polite smile.

Darry disappeared soon after, excusing himself to change into a cleaner shirt, though I saw nothing wrong with the one he had on. Mrs. Curtis ushered me toward the stove, dangling a spoon in front of my face and pointing me to a pot of spaghetti sauce. At least I wouldn't be useless.

The older woman multitasked like no one else. She had water boiling for noodles, a pot of sauce cooking on the stove and the oven preheating for a chocolate cake.

She emptied the contents of the large plastic bowl into a cake pan, catching my attention with a smile and a nod.

"I tell you, if my boys had it their way we'd have cake every day of the week."

"Big sweet tooths, huh?" I said.

She laughed. "They're chocolate fiends. I swear I make more chocolate cakes than I do anything else. Soon enough I'll be doing it in my sleep."

Over the next twenty minutes we were able to get dinner ready. Darry didn't make much of an appearance during that time. Every so often I'd catch him poking his head into the room but whenever I turned to say something he was gone again. Our eyes would meet and he'd give me this weird, uneasy look before turning to leave. This went on several times and it got to the point where I started to think I wasn't welcomed, that maybe I really _was _intruding. His mother didn't seem to mind my company, but maybe I'd overstepped my boundaries. Really, I was only just an acquaintance, if that.

I was setting the table when I heard the front door open. A young man, arms loaded with groceries, entered the room. I stopped what I was doing, one hand still hovering over the newly placed fork. I blinked at the image before me, thinking I must be seeing things.

The man looked exactly like Darry. He was built big and tall and had that same ridiculous hair cut.

_When did Darry go out to the store? _

Right on cue, the Darry I was familiar with stuck his head into the room. The only reason I knew it was him was because of that dumb black t-shirt he had on again. He knew I hated that thing.

The Darry look-alike had stopped in the doorway; he was staring directly at me. Together beside the Darry I knew, they almost resembled…

_Oh, God, please tell me he's not a twin! _

Everything had gone quiet in the Curtis house. The two Darrys both watching, waiting for me to say something. I fidgeted under the look.

I placed the stack of plates I was holding down on the table. In two quick strides I approached the new Darry.

With a polite smile, I extended my hand and said, "You must be Darry's older brother."

The young man grinned so wide I thought his cheeks would tear. I fidgeted once more, my hand hanging useless in the air.

"Uh, or you're his younger…brother?" I hesitated.

The Darry I knew beamed at his doppelganger and in the same instant the two of them broke into a chorus of laughter.

Mrs. Curtis who was busy with dinner, turned from the stove, a disapproving look on her face.

"Oh, leave the poor girl alone," she said.

"You're right dear," Darry look-alike said with a smile. He finally took my hand, his grip firm but gentle. "I'm Darrel Curtis."

_Wait, what? There are two Darrys?_

I must have looked just as confused as I felt because Darry chuckled and said, "He's my dad."

"Oh." My cheeks were hot with embarrassment. "Well, I guess that explains the resemblance."

Mr. Curtis couldn't help laugh about the incident as he put away the groceries. I didn't mind it that much. He seemed like a light-hearted, carefree type of man and it was all in good fun. Albeit, I doubt I'd ever live the moment down.

It wasn't long before I found myself sitting next to Darry, a loaded plate of spaghetti sitting in front of me. Mrs. Curtis must have been under the impression I never ate or something because that woman had piled it high. I wouldn't be able to eat half of what she'd put on my plate.

Darry smirked, nudging my side. Voice low, he whispered, "She must think you eat like me."

"So you're part horse now?" I whispered back.

He grinned and with all the cockiness I remembered from our previous encounters he said, "I'll let you guess what part."

That had been the last thing I expected to come out of the serious-faced young man. My face went bright red, I was sure of it. When I looked up at him, he had a mouthful of noodles and sauce and looked just as calm as ever.

"So, Lauren, is it?" Mr. Curtis' voice pulled me from my embarrassment. "What grade are you in?"

"It's my last year at Will Rogers," I replied. "I'm eighteen, but I've a bit of catching up to do, so I'll be there until school lets out in the summer."

_But in 2008 I'm twenty-one and in college if that helps?_

"Any plans after high school?"

"Dad, I'm sure Lauren doesn't feel like talking about school…"

"I don't mind," I said, interrupting Darry. "I plan on going into teaching."

"You know, Darry here is on a scholarship from Oklahoma University," Mrs. Curtis chimed in.

Darry lowered his head, focusing for all he was worth on his dinner.

"Mom," he muttered to his plate.

I turned to get a better look at him. All this time I'd thought he was more brawn than brains. His broad shouldered, muscular appearance led me to believe that he was this underdeveloped caveman. I never expected him to be the college driven type. I liked that image of him, head in a book, studying for exams.

"Of course he's saving up until then, what with all those other expenses. You can probably tell we don't have much, but Darry's too stubborn to let that get in his way."

"Jeez," Darry said, so low only I heard it.

"That's right," Mr. Curtis added. "He's a hard worker, our boy. You know he'll be the first Curtis to ever make it to college? Now that's something to be proud of."

Darry's face was pointed so close to the table, I thought he'd drown himself in his meal. His jaw was tight, face a light shade of crimson.

"It's good he has a plan," I responded, because there was nothing else I knew to say.

Things calmed shortly afterward, all you could hear were the sounds of busy mouths working their way through dinner. Darry's younger brother, a kid by the name of Ponyboy remained silent for most of my visit. He sat directly across from me, a head of greasy, reddish-brown hair, too long and unkempt for his cute face. It seemed the entire family had been blessed with good looks.

The boy sat, ears red as tomatoes, catching glances at me when he thought I wasn't looking. I pretended not to notice him spying at me from the other end of the table. It was unnerving to say the least. I thought the kid had a problem or something, staring at me like that, like he was studying me.

_He's either very shy around girls or a little pervert._

Before I knew it, dinner had ended and we'd licked our plates clean of the chocolate cake for dessert. Darry shrugged his jacket on while I put away the last of the dishes.

"We better get goin' 'fore your folks start to think some _juvenile delinquent _from the North side kidnapped ya."

I smiled.

Mrs. Curtis gave me a motherly embrace. She muttered her goodbyes and reassured me that I was welcome back any time I wanted.

"It's nice to have another girl around, helps balance out all the testosterone," she said.

I lied and said I'd be sure to stop in again soon, but I doubted that would happen. Darry looked restless standing by the door, truck keys in hand. I felt as though he was anxious to be rid of me.

I said my goodbyes to Mr. Curtis and that strange Pony-kid and followed Darry out into the cold.

We pulled onto the road in silence. Darry gripped the wheel so hard I thought he'd break it. He didn't dare look in my direction. I shifted awkwardly in my seat, hands reaching for the scarf around my neck.

"You fidget a lot," he said, voice rough.

I dropped the piece of yellow fabric.

"There ain't nothin' wrong with it," he added. "Just noticed it is all."

Again the silence trickled in. I had to break it after a few minutes. I cleared my throat loud enough to catch his attention.

"Are you mad at me or something?" I said.

I wasn't going to beat around the bush, might as well ask him straight out.

He reacted quickly enough, answering me in a rush of words. "'Course I ain't mad at you. Why would you think that?"

"You've been acting weird all night and now you aren't saying anything. Should I not have stayed for dinner? Is that it?"

"I told ya, it ain't like that."

"Then how is it?"

He grumbled to himself, not bothering to elaborate any further. I folded my arms across my chest and stared out the passenger side window.

"If that's how it's going to be then," I muttered.

Neither of us spoke a word as we drove through his neighborhood. I wasn't the type of person to stay quiet for very long. The tense silence was eating me up inside, I couldn't take it.

It wasn't until a red traffic light forced the pickup to stop that I broke the silence. My wandering eyes had fallen upon what looked to be an open field. A large, white screen was mounted at the start of it and some distance away from that were several rows of benches. The entire property was surrounded by a tall, metal fence.

Curiosity got the best of me. "What's that?"

Darry snuck a look to where I was pointing. He didn't seem all that impressed at my discovery.

"Oh, that's just the Nightly Double."

I pressed my nose against the glass of the side window, peering out at the field while my excitement grew.

"So, it's a drive-in theatre?" I said. "Like where you can take your car in and everything?"

Darry's husky laugh filled the Ford's small interior. "You act like you've never been to the movies before."

"I have, just not to a drive-in."

The traffic light switched to green and we continued our drive, the theatre passing by my side of the window at a painfully slow rate. I watched it go, vowing to see a movie on its big screen.

"You must see movies there all the time," I said.

Darry shook his head. "I don't like 'em all that much."

I couldn't believe that. How could someone _not_ like to go see a movie?

"Are you insane?" I said. I stared at him, knowing he had to be if he didn't like movies. "How can you not like going to the movies?"

He shrugged. "They're not real."

"So," I snapped.

"So, everyone always looks phony in movies. 'Sides, why should I waste my money watchin' a story about someone else's life when I got problems of my own to worry about?"

"Oh. My. God. You're such a cynic; you're missing the whole point of the movies."

He shrugged again. I was starting to get flustered. I huffed, a dramatic sigh that caught Darry's attention.

"You goin' to be okay?" he asked

I narrowed my eyes. "I just don't understand how you can say that about movies." I sounded pathetic.

"Sorry…" he said.

"Darry, the whole point of going to see a movie is to get a bit of an escape from life's problems. It lets you pretend you're someone else and forget about your worries. It's the same with reading a book."

In a low voice he said, "I don't care much for those either."

By that point we had made it to the other side of town. We were in the middle of Suburbia, passing houses, each one identical to the next. I pointed Darry in the right direction and he nodded wordlessly every time I spoke. A few minutes more and the Ford was pulling down my street.

"So, if you don't like movies and books then what do you do to pass the time?" I asked.

"I don't know, plenty of things: hunting, skiing, football. I took a course over at the YMCA once and learned all sorts of gymnastics."

The truck pulled to a stop next to the curb, parking just a few feet from my house. The lights were off inside and a familiar blue Mustang was sitting in the driveway.

"Well, this is me," I said with a smile.

"My mom really took a liking to you," Darry said. "I'm sure she'd love to have you back again; I think we all would."

"Oh." My smile grew wider. "And who is _we_?"

"Just my folks and Ponyboy, he seems really taken by you," he teased. "And I wouldn't mind all that much if you hung around, so long as you can remember to tell me apart from my dad."

"Hey, it's not like I did it on purpose." Darry chuckled lightly in response.

All of a sudden the Mustang's headlights turned on, bathing the driveway in a pale, yellow light. The engine turned over, drowning out the remainder of our conversation. A slim, shadowed figure stepped out of the driver's side, though I couldn't tell if it was Randy or not. I assumed it was, because who else would drive his car?

"Guess that's my cue to leave," I said to Darry. "Thanks again for the ride and for dinner."

"You're welcome."

I stepped out of the car and waited by the curb, watching as the beat-up Ford disappeared within the deep, dark pits of Suburbia.

The figure in my driveway headed toward me. The headlights cast him into a pool of light as he walked past and I realized then that this joker wasn't Randy. This boy was definitely older and a lot taller, with hair that was a straight, golden blond, short and combed back.

He smiled at me, closing the last few feet in hurried steps. I didn't even have time to think before I found his arms wrapped about my waist and his lips pressed forcefully against my own.

_What the hell…?!_

I threw my hands out in a panic, pressing for all I was worth against his chest. Slowly, he parted his lips from my own, a dreaming smile curling them upward.

"God, I've missed you, Lauren."

The words were barely out of his mouth when I whirled around and slapped him hard across the face.

"Try that again and you'll be in for a world of hurt, bud."

Smile gone, he stood, rubbing at the spot on his face where I'd hit him. I hoped it would leave a nasty bruise; that would show him.

"Jesus, Lauren, what's gotten into you?"

"Excuse me? Who the hell do you think you are? You can't just go around thrusting yourself onto girls like that," I said, hands shaking.

"Yeah, but you aren't any girl, you're my girl. Have I been gone that long, you don't even recognize me anymore?"

I didn't understand. Voice thick, I asked, "Who are you again?"

He laughed. "Sweetheart, it's me, Jed. We've been going steady for nearly a year now. What, did you suddenly forget that or something?"

"Uh…well…"


End file.
